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Capitol Complex Calling

Cackling, clapping and yackety-yakking
The noise is a nightmare for the living dead
At the mountain base is there, the master’s mansion
It is built of blood, completed with scum
Inside the elegance is evident
From the dribble of daylight robbery
Like their fake faces, them the drooling donkeys
And they bet on the fate of the folks
Inside, though, ever it is pleasant
The talking shop, tinctured with rotten shits
Our bad fortune has been merely footnoted
All’s compensated, though, with the collection of craps
There at the entrance it lies unmistakably
In filthy yellow, fettered and walled with barb wires around
The building reeks of stinking trash and garbage
In and out, the blatant truth is written everywhere
Inside there should be the fattest, biggest bomb
Explosion and a new revolution
Else so bleak is the view
The haze has hindered all sanity
But pine and pant for some badly needed normality